


Trouble Sleeping

by AngelQueen, jelazakazone



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comment Fic, Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Magic, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/pseuds/jelazakazone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something disrupts Merlin and Arthur's sleep. Set some time post-Series 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Originally written as comment fic to make kleinefee92 feel better after a rotten day, jelazakazone and I decided to doll this up and make it much prettier as a birthday present. Hope you've had a great day, dear!

Merlin's breathing is soft and even. Arthur rests on his side, his hand holding his head up as he watches the other man sleep.

Merlin's sleep is rarely so peaceful. More often than not, there is muttering, sniffling, tossing, turning. Arthur has learned to sleep through most of it, waking only when the muttering, sniffling, tossing, turning moves on to something worse – shouts, tears, magic. Arthur has lost count of the times he's had to stop Merlin from setting the bed curtains on fire.

Merlin rarely discusses what he dreams, but Arthur can guess. Morgana, Freya, Balinor, and all the others Merlin believes that he failed. Uther, Nimueh, Morgause, and all the others who sought to kill him for what he represented.

But all of that is far away tonight. Now, Merlin sleeps deeply, at peace.

Arthur brushes his lips against Merlin's bare shoulder, and then settles down to join him.

Arthur drifts in limbo, floating off to sleep, when Merlin tenses, waking him.

"Merlin? What is it?"

"Mmmm? What is what?" is the sleepy answer.

"Something woke you up. What’s wrong?"

"Mmm." Merlin turns in Arthur's arms, snuggling in, exhaling sweet, warm breath onto his neck "Must have been a dream."

Then the dogs howl, alarming the men. Merlin stills and Arthur knows that the sorcerer is reaching out with his magic, checking for threats to Camelot, to _him_. He absentmindedly taps Arthur's face with chilly fingers. 

"I couldn't sense anything but a rabbit. I think the dogs must have caught the scent of the silly thing. Rest, Arthur. You will be no good to your people if you don't sleep."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "And yet, a good night's sleep never makes you any less clumsy."

Merlin snorts, retracting his hand. "Prat. Fine, be that way, but I don't want to hear any complaining about how tired you are tomorrow."

Arthur would shrug, but it’s too much effort. Instead, he wraps an arm around Merlin who has turned back around, tugging him closer, if that's even possible.

They're both just on the edge of sleep when the dogs howl again, urgent and alarming. This time, both men shoot up from the bed.

"If Gwaine is teasing them again," Arthur growls, grabbing a shirt and sword, "I'll have him teaching the squires for a month!"

The men pull on trousers and slip into boots, grabbing jackets on the way out the door.

The kennels are on the far side of the castle and it feels like it takes them an eternity to get there. The narrow corridors are full of shadows, giving them a sinister feel. There is also a chill unfamiliar to Merlin. They are just on the threshold of the kennel when Merlin nearly runs into Arthur, who has stopped abruptly in front of him.

The hair on the nape of Merlin’s neck rises as though someone has breathed across his skin. In the silver moonlight, the gooseflesh on Arthur's own neck confirms his suspicions. They are facing something incorporeal.

"It's a ghost," Merlin hisses.

Arthur whips out his sword. "What?" he demands, incredulous.

Still at the man's back, Merlin reaches forward, pushing Arthur's sword back towards its scabbard.

"Your sword won't do any good here, dollop head."

Not taking his eyes from the scene in front of them, Arthur says, "What can I do?"

"Get behind me. _Now_."

Arthur dislikes letting anyone else take the lead, much less Merlin, even if the idiot is probably better equipped to take care of these kinds of... situations. Still, when another cold breeze blows across his skin, he grudgingly takes a step back. Merlin moves forward, a blue-silver ball of light appearing in his hand.

They creep further into the kennels and Arthur's ears are full of the barks and howls of the dogs. He wonders where the guards are. Surely someone other than them has heard the racket, but there is no sign of anyone else approaching.

Merlin halts, and Arthur nearly knocks him over by not stopping quickly enough. He opens his mouth to snap at the other man, only to stop when Merlin's free hand snatches Arthur's wrist in a tight, almost painful, grip.

"What?" he demands. "Merlin, let go of -"

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin hisses, "shut up and _look_."

Instead of arguing, Arthur looks. And freezes.

Fair hair. A dress like spun gold. A face etched with both sadness and love. Blue eyes like his own and yet still nothing like them.

Arthur's eyes widen with shock, with recognition. His voice catches in his throat before he can use it.

_It's not possible_ , he thinks. _Not again._

An ethereal voice says, "I do not have much time. My son, it is good to see you again but I must tell you, evil is about to enter your realm. Arthur, put your trust in Merlin." Then she is gone, leaving them chilled to the bone.

They look at each other, stunned. What evil? When?

“What's Morgana done now?” Arthur asks, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering. It’s the first thing that comes to mind – that his bastard sister has perpetuated some other disaster in the hope that it will win her the throne.

Merlin doesn't respond immediately, his eyes glazed and distant. Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but then Merlin shakes his head and his eyes clear. "It doesn't feel like she's torn a hole in the veil again," he said. "That requires a willing sacrifice, and Morgana's fresh out of allies willing to give their blood for her." 

Arthur thinks he should be disturbed by the bitterness in Merlin's voice, but somehow, he isn't. He can only guess at the horrors they have shared to make them despise each other.

"Still," Merlin continues, "I think she's been meddling in the spirit realm again. How else could... your mother come to warn us?"

Arthur nods slowly, his hand brushing the pommel of his sword. "We'll deal with it," he says. "My mother said to put my trust in you, and that has never been particularly difficult for me to do." He reaches out and squeezes Merlin's shoulder. "We'll handle it."

Merlin glances at him and twitches an eyebrow upward. "Since when are you the reassuring one?" he asks wryly.

Arthur shrugs casually. "Since you told me you have magic." Bouncing on the balls of his toes he adds, "Come on, we have to do _something_."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "There is nothing we can do right now. We just have to wait."

Merlin expects that Arthur will tell him he can polish armor while they wait, but no words come. In fact, Merlin realizes, Arthur is frozen stiff.

It takes a moment for Merlin to process the alien magic that is closing in around them -- magic distinctly not his own. Reaching out, he tugs at the corrupt bindings that have descended on Arthur, freeing him. He barely has time to register that Arthur is blinking again before the sound of applause rings in his ears.

"Well done, Merlin! Clearly you're not as useless with magic as you are with everything else."

Merlin whirls, his hand flying up, and finds himself face-to-face with Morgana.

"Really," she says, her posture deceptively casual as she leans against one of the kennel walls, "the late Queen has shown that Uther wasn't the only one to pass on irritating traits to their son. Her interference in things that are no longer her concern, for one." The irritation is blatant in her eyes.

Merlin glares at her, deliberately keeping himself between the two siblings. "You're threatening to kill her son, Morgana. Again. Of _course_ she's going to stand by and do nothing.” He purses his lips, looking intently at her before whispering, “I don't think she's inclined to listen to high priestesses after what Morgause did to her and Arthur." 

Her beautiful face twists into an ugly snarl. "Don't you dare speak my sister's name!"

Magic crackles in the air, and Merlin stiffens. "Morgana, I am tired of your petty tantrums. This ends now." Eyes locked on the sorceress, Merlin says, "Arthur, it's time for you to go."

When Arthur hesitates, his eyes flicking between him and Morgana uncertainly, Merlin repeats, "Now, Sire." 

Arthur leaves.

Merlin centers himself. He lets go of all emotion, aware that feelings are a wild card when using magic. He draws power up from the ground and lets it seep into his skin from the air. He hears crickets chirping on the training ground and lovers whispering in the lower town. The scent of pine needles crushed by a doe who has just given birth reaches his nostrils, and he knows he cannot hold any more power.

With utmost control, he allows the power to flow through his body and aims it at Morgana.

Morgana is no fool, and her own magic rises to meet his own, blow for blow. She had proven herself adept with magical battles in the past, when Merlin had disguised himself as the old man. There will be no easy victory here, for either of them.

They throw everything they can think of at each other, unaware of the dogs' frantic howling and shouts coming from outside. Merlin dives into a pile of hay, ducking past one particularly well-aimed shot.

This isn't working. He needs to try something else. Brute force isn't going to help them overcome each other.

Tired of fighting that goes nowhere, Merlin digs down deep inside his heart, looking for an answer. He is a little surprised to find that there is a crumb of forgiveness left in his heart. Morgana has done so much that is unforgivable – burning the kingdom’s crops, killing the people when they refused to bend to her. Yet he knows that he and Gaius bear some responsibility to what she’s become, however unwittingly. _This_ is the right path.

Full of conviction, he stands and hurls the strongest healing spell he knows at her, one equal to the spell he once tore from Kilgharrah. The healing magic catches her unaware – why would anyone throw such a spell in the middle of a battle? As a result, it hits her full on. It takes a few moments before awareness blooms on her face. Merlin’s breath catches, wondering what she will do. 

For several seconds, she gapes at him, trying to discern his motives. Merlin doesn’t dare move; he just waits. Her eyes slowly fill with confusion – confusion and fear. Then cold wind churns through the kennel, and she vanishes in a tunnel of violent air. 

Weariness comes over Merlin like a great flood. Though his skill at healing has grown, it has never come easily to him. He closes his eyes for a moment, slumping against the cold wall and trying to stave off the sudden urge to sleep. 

Someone arrives just in time to catch Merlin from banging his head as he collapses. When Merlin comes to, Arthur is stroking the hair away from his forehead. He starts to sit up, but Arthur presses him back down into his lap.

"Morgana’s gone,” he assures him. “I don’t think she’ll be bothering us for a while. Rest, Merlin. You've done good work. Again."

Arthur places a light kiss on Merlin's forehead.

Merlin struggles to full consciousness before giving in to sleep; worries of Morgana turn into dreams. He doesn’t know if he ever finds her in those dreams, but when he wakes the following morning, he is no longer worried. That alone gives him hope.

Merlin snuggles into Arthur, who holds him tight, and praises the rising sun.


End file.
